


the head and the heart

by Littlelionman15



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alpha Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, Bellarke AU Week, Bellarke Week, Doctor Abby Griffin, Endgame Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, F/M, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Nerd Bellamy Blake, Protective Bellamy Blake, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, The 100 (TV) Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlelionman15/pseuds/Littlelionman15
Summary: Bellarke AU inspired by a beautiful moment in the Hunger Games: Catching Fire, when Katniss has a nightmare and Peeta comes to check up on her.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Kudos: 58





	the head and the heart

**Author's Note:**

> hi my loves!
> 
> this is my first shot at a The 100 fic, so please forgive me if i wrote them out of charater or just, if i wrote them badly. hope you guys are staying safe and loved! <3 
> 
> all feedback is welcome and desired, so enjoy the read and please leave your impression of it! <

The days after the fall of Mt. Weather had been a blur for all of the Arkadians.

Each of them coped in their own way – some reuniting with their idea of peace only when they’d isolated themselves from the people who love them, and turned to comfort found in booze; some in taking time to heal and then to try and set up a new routine, a new normal, if there even was a chance for one.   
And some, however, choose to deal with the aftermath by pushing all the pain and horror aside, into the deepest and darkest corners of their minds, and doing the best they can in helping others return to whatever normal was nowadays.

Two of our favorite delinquents – well, only one of them was actually a prisoner, the other was just too caring and full of love for his own good – had decided that the last of the three ways was the one they’d go with.

They barely talked during the past few days; not only because they were on different locations most of the time, with Clarke working full-time in the infirmary with Abby and Jackson, and Bellamy helping rebuild the compound along with the other men and women who took it upon themselves to make this patch of the radiation-soaked planet their home, but also because it was difficult to find anything to talk about.

They bore it, so the others didn’t have to.   
They bore the burden too heavy for two shoulders to carry, and refused to take time for themselves when the Chancellor herself ordered them to.

With time, all of their stillness and strength, cemented upon their faces by the endless desire to be productive and useful, began disappearing at night, once the shadows crept into the corners of their new bedrooms in the reformed Ark – Clarke’s was at the end of the hallway, with a window that sought a good image of the starry skies and the moon, as she tried to find peace in drawing the world her people lived to see again, thanks to her and Bellamy, and his was at the beginning of it, close to the aisle that led into what was left of the old library upon the Ark’s landing, where he’d found a sense of serenity in the section of Greek classics, reading for the millionth time the stories his mother had taught him and Octavia.

One particular night, when she’d lost a patient in the infirmary, due to trauma – mental _and_ physical – sustained in Mt. Weather, horrible dreams began haunting her dreams as Clarke laid on her bed, her hands clutching the edges of her covers as she slept in a fetal position.

She kept seeing all of their faces.

It felt as if the night lasted a thousand hours; she saw every innocent child, woman and man, first in the condition in which she saw them during their first breakfast together, and then covered in fatal burns to their faces.   
The images were burning themselves into her memory, and new ones – even worse ones – began arising as peas of sweat began sliding across her forehead. In the new dream, she imagined their screams for air, for the safety of the bunker they called home; screams for the life _she_ was taking away from them.

At one point, it all became too much – and a horrible, painful scream escaped her mouth as she jumped from the bed, climbing to its corner which rested between two metal walls.

Her heart was racing and the image before her eyes was blurry when the doors swung open; but at the sight of the young man who’d walked in, a sense of safety and peace flooded her body.

“Bellamy” she speaks softly, allowing for his name to slip over her lips like the most beautiful word there is.   
“It was just a dream” she explains, wiping the sweat off of her forehead, “I’m sorry.”

He stands just a few steps from the door, looking at her, curled up in the corner with her fists pressed against her chest in a way that made his heart break.

“It’s okay, Clarke” Bell says, commanding his lips into a soft smile “I have them too.”

She looks at him, at the way the moonlight paints his dark eyes with an ethereal gleam as the reassuring smile spreads across his face.   
Clarke nods, but doesn’t speak. She remembers his hand held over hers as they pushed the lever together with the fatality of the promise that they’d do it together, that they’d bear it together.

“Good night” he says gently, wiping the corner of his eye like a sleepy kid, and as he heads back to the door, and even grabs the handle, she calls for him.

“Can you stay with me?” it was a hard question to ask, because she was hereby taking off the armor she wore daily, the bulletproof cover of a calm and composed person, and allowing herself to be vulnerable.

“Yeah,” he said, “of course.” And as much as she disliked being vulnerable around anyone, if there was anyone she’d confide in, anyone who could understand her, it was him.

He came towards her bed slowly and silently, as if he’d allowed himself to be carried by the nightly breeze from her window. Bellamy sat at the bed’s edge, waiting for her to decide whether she wants him to come closer or not, and once she nodded shortly after realizing why he looked at her as if to ask her if it was okay to lie down and hug her.

And so he did; Bellamy Blake moved closer to the header of the bed, resting his broad shoulders against the metal wall. Clarke allowed herself a short moment of vulnerability, and nested herself in the soft material of his white, knitted sweater.

“Thank you for staying.” Her voice felt calmer, and once he counted her heartbeats in a minute, he knew that deciding to stay was the right thing to do, because hers wasn’t the only heart that beat calmly for the first time since God knows when.

“Always.” He promised, and a sense of gratitude blossomed within his heart.


End file.
